


Darkness Taking Dawn

by MioOkumura



Category: Anthrax (Band), Burzum (Band), Mayhem (Band), Megadeth, Metallica, Slayer (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-01 14:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MioOkumura/pseuds/MioOkumura
Summary: Nearly two decades after her death Lars Ulrich of Metallica decides to finally make his thoughts public on black metal vocalist's, Rita Ellsberg's, death in this exclusive television interview. (Reupload from Wattpad)





	1. Backtracking

**** This far but no further  
I'm hanging off a branch  
I'm teetering on the brink  
Oh honeysweet  
So full of sleep  
I'm backsliding  **** You fell into our arms  
You fell into our arms  
We tried  
But there was nothing  
We could do  
Nothing we could do  **All evidence has been buried  
All tapes have been erased  
But your footsteps give you away  
So you're backtracking - Radiohead**

 

Rita Ellsberg , was a name that polarized the entirety of the eighties and nineties. If you lived around this time you knew about her reign of terror on the music industry. However, unlike other musicians that would eventually burn out and fade away she never did. Even after death her she is still a very alive and important figure in music history. She wasn't like an Axl Rose, Wendy O'Williams, or even a Syd Barrett. But in her own strange and unique way she was a poet and an artist. She revolutionized her genre and in many cases helped influenced my own. She was startling.

The thing was, however, even with the way I describe her now she was nothing but ordinary and actually bland when around her. People like to put her up on a pedestal nowadays, but we both know that that is the one thing she loathed more than life itself. It was glamorization of her and her music and aesthetic. If you knew one thing about that girl it was that her dread and self-loathing wasn't an act or a joke. She felt like being clamored by a bunch a fans was pretty much vice and hated every second of publicity or fame that she received. Her whole attitude was rather hilarious and funny back then, but now when looking back with some hindsight it was anything but.

Rita was rather dreary and shabby looking. Looking at her was almost like looking at nothing. She was nothing special in all honesty. She was just this drab androgynes looking girl from Norway. She has jet black greasy hair, pale almost grey eyes that resemble that of a dead fish, and rather thin lips. Even physically she wasn't that much of a spectacle in any way shape or form. Rita was just rather bland appearance wise. All I (or anyone) really knew about her was that she liked metal music, poetry, reading, and didn't really speak that much. In general she was just rather indifferent in life. She didn't stand out in the crowd or anything.

However, in the eighties and nineties her coalition overthrew the mainstream and lead to this huge counterculture movement pouring out from the underground and forcing its way and infiltrating the societal norm. If anything despite her being the poster girl for the 'metal militia' she hated that title and role more than anything in the world.

No one really knew her all that well. If anything she remained this cold case mystery to everyone that surrounded her. Even to me she was this weird unsolved puzzle, and this is after being around her for at least two decades. Everyday when something new comes out about her I learn something new about Rita too. That's just proof about how obscure and concealed she was.

Rita always displayed herself as being damaged and broken like rotten fruit, molded and wasting away. She'd keep screaming on and on about how she had 'nothing more to lose', how she would just 'crumble and fade away in the end', etc, etc. All the other guys including myself would laugh at how melodramatic she was being. We really didn't know how serious it was. "If we knew..." I sighed as I continued on with my account. "We wouldn't have laughed it off as quickly and as carelessly as we did." I finished grimly. 

Rita was always teetering on the brink. She always claimed that she wanted to go far, but couldn't go further. She fell into my arms and I tried, but there was nothing I could do. Even when she smiled , in retrospect, she never looked genuinely happy. She always seemed on to very edge of reality, but no one questioned it. This was partially because of her rather off-putting personality and attitude. She was not necessarily loud or obnoxious, but it weirded a lot of people out being around her. I being one of those people. She was quiet and isolated from everyone else. It was worse than James' introverted mannerisms. Rita was truly an island to herself. 

It seemed that even after leaving her foot mark in this planet no one knew anything about Rita. Her blood family has declined any comment on her since her first time in the spotlight. Her associates back in Norway and Sweden have also declined to comment. Along with that any trail leading to a new clue about Rita's life just seems to lead to nowhere and vanish into thin air.  My lovely Rita was and forever shall be unknown. All evidence has been buried of her. All the tapes have been erased. But your footsteps gave you away. I should've known. You were and you're always backtracking.


	2. Everlong

** Hello  
I've waited here for you  
Everlong  ** ** Tonight I throw myself in two  
Out of the red  
Out of her head she sang  ** ** Come down and waste away with me  
Down with me  
Slow, how you wanted it to be  
I'm over my head  
Out of her head she sang  ** ** And I wonder  
When I sing along with you  
If everything could ever feel this real forever  
If anything could ever be this good again  
The only thing I'll ever ask of you  
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when  ** ** \- Foo Fighters ** **  
**

 

I remember in the eighties when I was just starting up Metallica with James there was always this girl who worked in this really old and worn down record shop. She always seemed a bit off and was inept when it came to conversing with others. Her Norwegian accent was so thick that when words came out of her mouth there was a lisp that followed it. As far as I could tell she wore no makeup, hadn't washed her hair in at least a month because of how greasy it was, and was wearing so many clothes that she was just as covered up as a nun usually is. 

I remember coming up to her to buy the Iron Maiden Killers record. She packed away my purchase and to be honest I didn't really think that much about it. She was just this odd foreign girl that happened to work where I usually hung out. So what, whatever, right? I thought that until later that night I am the rest of the band (Including Ron and Dave at the time) went to this really shabby and sleazy looking yet popular lit up club in Los Angeles at the time, The Whiskey A Go Go. Keep in mind black metal wasn't really popular around this time, especially in Los Angeles. So when we saw this band called The Virgin Suicides headlining all that was going through my mind was that it was going to be another glam rock or hair metal band with tons of makeup, glitzy clothes, and big fucking hair posing as this dark band to grab attention. 

So when we entered we sat by the bar of the club and merely waited for them to come on. However, to all of our surprises when we saw them entering onto stage they were wearing makeup, but it wasn't 'cutesy' or 'dolly'. In all honesty it was rather veering and weird looking. It covered all of their faces, but it wasn't like Kiss or even Alice Cooper it was just unique I guess. Along with that they weren't a bunch of guys walking onto stage it was a bunch of girls with instruments. Sure, you had a ton of wanna be 'empowering' female metal bands hanging around the area, but those guys looked much more threatening and imposing than anyone else did. Plus until further closer inspection you couldn't really tell they were women. They were extremely androgynous, especially back then.

Of course I along with the other patrons of the establishment were rather intrigued, but appearance is only part of the whole presentation. They could've been like the fucking Go-Go's for all we knew.  However, once she opened her mouth this raspy, off-putting, almost death like growl came out of her throat as she continued to grab the attention of the audience. At first I thought you were just going to be this edgy looking riot grrrl band or something of the like. But yet again she never failed to blow expectations out of the water for yourself. As she slung her jet black Z Dean guitar across her torso her eyes pierced black hole into the audience as she continued up onstage. All throughout her performance Rita would let out this thunderous deep animal like sound that was a mixture between growling and screaming. This would certainly go on to inspire other artist in the Scandinavian countries and even Pantera to some extent, but this sound that she were working with was practically unheard of. It was alien, it was new. It was nothing like any other thrash metal band that would be popular around this time, and it certainly sounded like nothing we were working with currently. It was otherworldly even with how experimental and out there it was. 

However, just as quickly as it started it ended. The patrons started to leave exclaiming about how 'satanic' it was and how 'it wasn't even real music'. But to me and the guys it was almost heavenly. It was brutal and dark. We had to meet those guys. As those guys were exiting the stage we blocked their pathway making it impossible to leave our line of vision.

"This was much to her dismay", I chuckled as I continued to the interviewer, "She gave me the gloomy look and told me to quote 'Piss off before I make you'." I finished reminiscing mimicking her accent.

To be honest I didn't know it was her until she opened her mouth. She was pretty forgettable to begin with and unrecognizable with all the makeup she had on. However, her voice was something I couldn't forget. How could you? It was the only Norwegian sounding one in the area. You couldn't confuse it for anything or anyone else. "Holy shit it's you!" I remembered I yelled out at her like some idiot. She scoffed and pushed me out of her way (quite easily with her being a bit taller than I was and having a bit more muscle mass on her) and her band mates followed suit and did the same thing grumbling something in what I assume was Norwegian as they exited the club just as quickly as we had entered.

They guys and I looked towards their general direction in confusion. Those girls, Rita in particularly, were oddities to us. Before she was just normal. She worked in a record shop, didn't speak that good english, so what? It was nothing to get emotional over or even ponder over, but now questions just rose up whenever I kept thinking about her. She was different. She for sure wasn't like the rest of the girls in Los Angeles, and probably not like the rest in the state of California. I had to find out more about her. This lead me to this conclusion: I needed to go to that record store again, and quickly.

Thoughts arrived to my mind and it was seeing across it, but this time I wasn't going to let them fade away. It felt like I was beginning my life again. It was this weird fascination I had with her. I wondered if things with her would feel this real with her forever. I wanted her to waste away with me and hang out with me. I was that attracted to this girl. I felt like I was waiting there for her, everlong.


	3. Lovely Rita

** Lovely Rita, meter maid  
May I inquire discreetly  
When are you free to take some tea with me? ** ** Rita! ** ** Took her out and tried to win her  
Had a laugh and over dinner  
Told her I would really like to see her again ** ** Got the bill and Rita paid it  
Took her home, I nearly made it  
Sitting on the sofa with a sister or two ** **Oh, lovely Rita, meter maid  
Where would I be without you  
Give us a wink and make me think of you - The Beatles**

 

I remember the next day when I woke up I ran to catch the bus immediately to make my way back over to the record store. I knew that girl had to be there. She worked there. Looking back on this this whole act of mine was a bit stalker-is and now looking back on this day I don't blame her skepticism, but you truly have to understand that these were the times. Along with that I was very much fascinated with this Scandinavian girl. Her odd personality yet dominating attitude on stage attracted me to her she was any metalhead's dream girl.

Once, I arrived there at the seedy record shop I saw her there ordering and filing different vinyls while smoking a cigarette in between deep and apathetic sighs. You surely didn't look or act anything like you did last night. It was like witnessing two different people. I began to awkwardly shift up towards her working desk as she continued to stamp prices onto the wrapped cases. 

"What do you want?" She mumbled out still focusing on her work. It felt like I was pretty much invisible to her at first. She didn't even look up to me while she was speaking. For really the first time in my life I was rather flustered and at a lost for words. To many I am rather outgoing and egotistical, however, around her it was like I was stripped away of all confidence in pride. It was as if I was in someone else's den and it showed with how she would address me when we would first meet.

"You were really good last night." 

"Thanks." She responded rather disinterested. She continued to flip through the different vinyl and CD sleeves making sure that they were all proper and in check. However, I couldn't just let her turn her away from me so easily and without a single hesitation in her mind.  

I turned to the interviewer yet again still in my nostalgic daze. "I remember saying, 'Hey that's a cool shirt.' To which she just said ended up saying, 'It's fucking Venom.'" I chuckled to myself mimicking her accented voice. "She never sounded so enthusiastic around me before. That's when I learned that the way to a girl's heart was through heavy metal."

From then on it was just a light and rather airy conversation. Who would have known that heavy metal would unite us. While, she was more of an avid Motörhead fan than she was a Diamond Head fan, but she still loved to talk about them just about the same. We joked around with each other quite frequently which eventually lead us to becoming friends.

It was towards the end of her shift when she was signing out that I finally gained the courage to ask her for her name and possibly a phone number. She was so short that I practically towered over her too. She merely nodded and pulled out a small sliver of paper and jotted down her name in rather beautiful cursive.

 _Rita 213-502-1221_ was sprawled out across the paper in soft and delicate writing. For a while I stood there gaping at the sheet of paper like it was the Holy Grail. 

"Hey are you ok there?" She started, "You need to leave we are closing up right now."

She stood there adjacent to the door in her navy blue parka that practically covered and shadowed her entire body.  I immediately ran back up to her before she lost any interest in me yet again. After we both exited the shop and she locked up I spoke up trying to formulate something before it was too late.

"Hey, where are you going now?" I stumbled out clumsily. 

"Back to my apartment, why?" 

"Come on Rita. The night is still young. Don't you want to do something fun or exciting at the very least? What are you some meter maid!" I called out to her rather sarcastically.

She suddenly turned around to face me with a light blush spreading on her pale face and smirked rather shyly. "What are you trying to do? Take me out for some tea?"  "As corny as that sounds that's what really broke the ice with us and got her to start talking to me more." I stated cringing a bit at our past interactions that night. We stood their silent for some time staring at each other rather dumbly until we both broke out into loud laughs of hysteria. All I could think at that point was that, 'Hey at least we have one thing in common. We both like the Beatles.'.

She then made her way over to me and nudged my arm with her own small form. "Come on, man!" She told me discreetly.  "You're taking me out to dinner first!" She stated rather happily. I truly was nothing but compliant and ready to oblige. I never really knew that this would be the first of many nights for us.

I don't know if what we did could really be called a true dinner date, but on the plus side you weren't really that hard to please. This was kinda impromptu so we just decided to pickup some Chinese food and raid a local 7/11 for snacks and what not. However, all throughout the night to refused for me to actually pay for anything we bought. That was something I was going to have to get used to getting the bill and having her pay for it. 

"She was always very hardheaded when it came to stuff like that." I smiled looking back. " I would always ask, 'Why don't you want me to pay? I'm suppose to treat you. You're a girl. I'm supposed to be gentlemanly.'" I remember having her glare up at me that night suddenly shifting her tone. While, she said it jokingly I knew well that it wasn't a joke. She firmly stood by it and meant it. 

" So," She pondered. "Your hair is longer than mine, Lars, stop acting like my femininity is what makes you have to pay for my meals."

After that I remember arriving at her apartment and just jumping around like idiots to what ever was playing on the TV. She was always shifting the channels, and when it eventually landed on a music variety channel like MTV, VH1, or the like she'd start mimicking whatever dumbass was on it. I believe it was then I vaguely started to realize while coming down from my sugar high that she was the girl for me. She was and is still always my lovely Rita.


	4. You Shone Like the Sun

**Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun.  
Shine on you crazy diamond.  
Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.  
Shine on you crazy diamond.  
You were caught in the crossfire of childhood and stardom, blown on the steel breeze.  
Come on you target for faraway laughter, come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!  
You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon.  
Shine on you crazy diamond.  
Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.  
Shine on you crazy diamond.  
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision, rode on the steel breeze.  
Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine! - Pink Floyd **

I woke up the next finding her sitting on the fire escape sitting down Indian style smoking a cigarette staring out at the road below us as a few cars and trucks speed on the road due to it being so early in the morning. It couldn't have been later than 6:00 A.M. in the morning. She was just sitting there with those blank grey eyes of hers that held almost no emotion as her nicotine cigarette sat loosely between her thin lips. In an odd way at this very moment her plainness made her all the more beautiful. She wasn't anything special. At most she set off red alarms in a persons head to steer away from her, but she was gorgeous to me. Her simplicity and minimalism made her all the more unique to me.

As she heard me approach her head snapped up in slight surprise. Her eyes widened for a quarter of a second then drooped once she realized it was only me. I brushed some loose strands away from my face and asked if I could bum one from her. She shrugged her shoulders then pulled out a pack of Marlboro and tossed a cigarette towards me still without properly regarding my presence.

"Hey, Lars?" Her soft yet raspy voice grasped my interest. I hummed a bit enabling her to know I was paying attention.

She stood up leaned forward on the fire escape while looking down towards the empty sidewalks.

She then ;for the first time so far in our encounters, looked towards me with these somewhat sad looking expression. Even though it was so minuscule you could clearly see the sadness evident in her orbs.

"Do you ever wonder how long the drop is from this far up?" She pondered mindlessly.

I jerked back in surprise and began rambling questioning her if she was to commit suicide. She sighed and pet my hair and slightly but sadly smiled.

"No Lars. I'm fine." She stated as she walked back into the inside of the apartment into the kitchen.

Even back then I felt something was off with her. I never brought it up of course. It wasn't any of my business back then. She always seemed so sad despite the lack of emotion that was always present in her daunting eyes. She almost never looked genuinely happy. It was always so rare to ever see her happy. The concept was almost as if it was always fleeting and such a foreign concept for her.

When I went back inside she sat at the table drinking straight black coffee along with eating a small bowl of cereal.

"You want some?" She mumbled out holding the box close to my face. I shrugged and took it from her hand only for her to quickly retreat out of the kitchen and back towards her bedroom slinging her guitar across her form.

She began to mindlessly strums away on her acoustic guitar. Sh looked dazed and confused. She was really out of it but as far as I knew she was never drunk or high. She was just that preoccupied with herself.

"Hey can I check out the rest of your apartment." She hummed in approval allowing me to go on further with my scouring through her room. Upon further inspection she had a plethora of books, writing materials, along with some art and music paraphernalia. It all was in some way a bit grotesque and morbid. Yet, in all of the horror I was witnessing it was strangely beautiful in its own way. Various books were scattered about in her room along with some obscure comic book posters and the like.

However, out of all the things in the room one thing in particular caught my eyes. It was a rather worn out and pink book. It seemed rather cheerful and light in contrast to the rest of the room, yet upon further inspection it was much gloomier than first expected. It had a single blackened figure standing in the center of the book looking isolated and out of place with the text 'No Longer Human' centered directly below said figure.

As he bent down to inspect the book a bit further a soft yet raspy accented voice sounded from the doorway. "That's my favorite book.", she stated quietly.

I turned towards her with the book still in my grasp.

"Oh, why do you like the book so much?" I questioned.

"I want to be just like the main character." Her eyes were like those of black holes. There was this sort of void emptiness that filled them. Still that look that was always present in her eyes frightened me. They were akin to those of dark shadows that danced at night that seemed to bore into my own.

"Oh, okay."

I didn't really question her on that book that much. She held so much affection towards the book and took it with her almost everywhere, yet she would almost never openly talk about the book to anyone. Not to me and not even to her band mates. It was kinda like this unspoken rule that you don't speak of that book. No one did. Maybe if one of us knew more about that book we could've known what she was referencing when she so casually and nonchalantly stated, "I want to be just like Yōzō."

"Just as I was about to open the book that day she snatched from my hands and hid it from me." I recalled to the interviewer. "I remember whenever I brought up that book to her when we were out she'd always change the subject and act as though the book never existed." I remembered turning my gaze away from the interviewer.

"What other books did she read?" Asked the lady behind the camera. "They were all very obscure. They could be considered morbid by default, but then again so was she. A lot of the music she made was almost always inspired by some comic or book that almost no one knew the name to." I smiled reminicing on the many days I saw her hunched over her small desk with a book open jotting down some lyrics.

Without any doubt in my mind when I think back on Rita she was off. She was rather reclusive and held this sort of social unawareness for those that surrounded her including herself at times. And, while many may like to merely label her as being mentally ill or unstable I knew that she was more than that. She was a stranger, a legend, a martyr, and a prisoner of her own fate and ability. Yet she was also the painter of it as well. I still remember when we were young, and you shone like the sun.

 


	5. What Am I Suppose To Do

** Hey pig   
Yeah you   
Hey pig piggy pig pig pig   
All of my fears came true   
Black and blue and broken bones you left me here I'm all alone   
My little piggy needed something new  ** ** Nothing can stop me now   
'Cause I don't care anymore   
Nothing can stop me now   
'Cause I just don't care   
Nothing can stop me now   
'Cause I don't care anymore   
Nothing can stop me now   
'Cause I just don't care  ** ** Hey pig   
Nothing's turning out the way I planned   
Hey pig there's a lot of things I hoped you could help me understand   
What am I supposed to do I lost my shit because of you  ** ** Nothing can stop me now   
'Cause I don't care anymore   
Nothing can stop me now   
'Cause I just don't care   
Nothing can stop me now   
'Cause I don't care anymore   
Nothing can stop me now   
'Cause I just don't care  ** **** Nothing can stop me now - Nine Inch Nails

 

I remember waking up one day finding Rita packing up her guitar and books. I've been hanging out with her for about a year around this time. As far as I knew she wasn't getting evicted but she just lazily and nonchalantly stated that she was going out touring with her band. I could understand that. She wanted to make it big. So around this time she exerted the most energy I ever seen come from her.  She was very thorough when it came to delicate packing and packaging all of her amps and other band equipment. Around this time they were going to be touring around the west coast while the guys and I were going to go to San Francisco to find a new bassist. She stated it would only last for a few months since she was only going to spend most of her time up in Washington and in other parts of California and maybe squeeze in Nevada. 

However, what always caught me off about her was that she was incredibly educated (or at least carried herself that way), yet she wasn't in college. She was only a year older than I was so she could've had at least one year of college down. When i brought it up to her she just merely stated that , 'An institution never suited my fancy. Plus, I've already earned some credits.' I never really knew the specifics of any of it, but with all the paper work that littered her worn down apartment you'd almost expect for her to be a student.

When I saw her pack away all of her work materials into the old almost rustic van I couldn't help but laugh at the fact that I was seeing a relatively small sized girl pack heavy equipment away into the back like it weighed nothing. I would constantly ask if I could help, but she wouldn't respond as if I weren't even there.

Once her and her friends finished stowing away everything she came up to me and merely told me goodbye.  

"She was never really the emotional type." I recalled. "It always seemed like she was very strained whenever she tried to express something to someone else. Even to her bandmates and to myself she was always very forced whenever she would communicate with another person." Even when we got close she almost never openly talked about anything that may have deeply affected her in the past. Again it was like another unspoken rule when it came to her. "She was very touchy and sensitive about herself."  

While, that was going on I had to get ready to go on to San Francisco with the rest of the guys. But believe it or not her quiet lack luster self made everything that followed suit feel a bit better. Around this time we had just kicked out our first bassist, Ron. Plus, tensions between Dave and the rest of the band were just getting worse and worse. It was always very loud and active around the guys, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but being around Rita was sobering. Her somewhat timid and quiet mentality and air had always had a serene and tender effect on me despite never really outwardly exemplifying any of those traits.

Apparently she had to tour so quickly because she wanted to impress then CEO and founder of Metal Blade Records, Brian Slagel. Along with that she was stating that apparently a lot more people took to her music up in Seattle and northern parts of California rather than in Los Angeles or any of the surrounding areas. either way I couldn't take that away from her. She clearly loved her music and wanted to do something with it. However, she never actually really told why she ever loved music or wanted to be a part of the industry. 

"But I just assumed she had a lot riding on making it big.", I turned towards the woman. "We all had a lot riding on making it big. We were all young and didn't want to follow in the steps of our parents. So I just assumed it was a familial issue. I never really got to asking her about it though. She rarely ever spoke about them except in a few one off statements."

"Thank you Mr.Ulrich. We will contact you tomorrow. Thank you again for your input." The producer lady gently smiled at me but then turn away to take a phone call.

As I was about to leave I saw a blurry figure come closer and closer towards me heading to the same room I had just sat down in. It was none other than the bassist of Rita's band, Lilly. We have never spoken that much, and as far as I knew she never really cared for me all that much. Whenever she would look towards me she would grimace in disgust. She hadn't changed much since when I last saw her. She was still keeping the 'punk spirit' alive with her greasy brown hair that covered the entirety of her face some worn out torn black jeans, combat boots, a Black Sabbath t-shirt, and her iconic tinted blacked out heart glasses that she would never take off.

As I went to approach her she whipped her head around to face me, but to my surprise stepped back away from me almost in surprise as she saw me.

"What do you want, Ulrich?" She questioned with a slight accent that was still present after all these years.

"I just wanted to say hi."

"Well, you did. You can leave now. You are taking up my breathing space." She stated rudely.

"Look, I just want to talk to you about-"

"Don't you dare bring up Rita!" She nearly yelled. "I will not have you taint her good name around me! You took her from me. Can't you just allow me to bask in her memory by myself. Can't you let me keep that for myself? Have you no decency!" She whispered as more and more eyes within the studio began to look over at us more and more.

"Look it has been almost twenty years! I miss her too, Lilly. Why can't we just talk?"

"Because you aren't worth my time, and you weren't worth hers." She finalized turning away from me and disappearing further into the set.

As I exited the building I pulled out a loose cigarette from my pocket as I leaned back thinking to myself about you. Nothing's turning out the way I planned. There's a lot of things I hoped you could help me understand. I lost my shit because of you. You left me wondering, 'What am I supposed to do?'


	6. Tell Me Does It Matter

**I'm a little alike  
You before things had changed  
In a compass, I ride  
All this feels rearranged  
Tell me, does it matter  
If I'm still here, or I'm gone?  
Shifting to the after  
An impostor, I'm not the one you know  
I look the same outside  
Nearly me even though  
I carry something I hide  
Underneath the one you know  
Tell me, does it matter  
If I'm still here, or I'm gone?  
Shifting to the after  
An impostor, so disowned  
Are you surprised black water flows  
From wells run dry?  
I'm not the one you know  
Lay me out with our guilt  
Watch the explosions fall, rain  
Cannot live within this tilt  
Carryin' over  
I'm not the one you know - Alice in Chains**

As I walked back into the set the next day I quickly noted that a few others inhabited the area along the producers and whatnot. Joanna stood there still looking as young as ever along with Tomi. 

Joanna was the drummer of the band, but had moved onto to make her own solo music with Tomi. She had nice sandy blonde hair and blue eyes and held a much more cleaner appearance than the bassist of their former band.  Also unlike Lilly she was much more open and accepting of me. She didn't really care if I was with Rita. If anything she was downright supportive of us and urged us to get together before we even knew we liked each other. She  waved off Tomi and walked over to me with her arms wide open.

"How are you Ulrich?" She embraced as the raspy voice of hers sounded in my ears. 

"Fine." I stated pulling back from her and looking up. 

She briefly smiled as the slight wrinkled along with sleep and age marks became a bit more evident. 

"That's good..." She paused awkwardly for a brief moment. "You know nothing has really been the same since Ellsberg went..." She looked off away from me as the hidden and repressed pain that she held for her only became more and more obvious. She suddenly snapped back into reality as Tomi came back only to tug her arm and urged her towards the exit as to so subtly imply that she wanted to leave. Joanna merely chuckled and looked towards me again as she turned away from Tomi. "Well, I guess that's my que to leave. I'll see you around sometime Ulrich. We should do lunch together!" 

They walked away slowly becoming nothing but a mere blur in the distance. Once I couldn't see them anymore I made my way deeper into the set as the producers looked away from their phones and PDAs and became almost entirely focused on me.

"Oh you're here! That's great! Why don't you take a seat and try to pick up where you left off yesterday!" The producer cheerily yet still sternly instructed me as I went to sit down.

I sat down and looked towards the camera in an apathetic and tired look as I was now becoming certain that this whole tv special was just a money scheme to bring in viewers who would be 'nostalgic' and tune in because they knew Rita's name.

"Where do you want to pick up?" I questioned lazily.

"Oh, just pickup after Cliff became part of Metallica." She stated authoritatively as she was scrolling through her notes.

I shrugged then looked back towards the camera recalling how fond Cliff and Rita were of each other.

Around the time we finally found a new bassist in San Fransisco was around the time The Virgin Suicides got back from tour. This made us have to pack up our stuff and migrate to the north, but surprisingly she didn't care or really even mind it. I was talking on the phone with her one night after finding Cliff in an underground club when she merely stated, 'I'll be moving up there with you guys soon enough.' She went on to say that geographically it made more sense since her fanbase and audience frequented around this part much more than back in Los Angeles.

After we moved up to San Fransisco Rita and her band joined only a few days later and invited us over to hang out and whatnot. However, while everyone else was socializing in her small rather rugged housing complex that she shared with her other bandmates she merely stood in the kitchen like a lone shark with a half finished beer cupped in her hands. The rest of the guys and I were hanging out with the much more lively ones in the group. Joanna and Tomi, especially, were the fun ones to hang out with. Yet, I guess while we were hanging out Cliff had isolated himself in the kitchen with Rita. 

"Rita and Cliff could always relate with each other with their rather odd sense of humor I guess." I recalled. "It also helped that they both had a thing for guns. Cliff grew up around them and would constantly use BB guns, while, Rita claimed that she grew up around them and would go to hunting and shooting ranges from time to time." I smirked remembering all the times they would go out back and shoot down old beer bottles with and old revolver she constantly had on her.

"Arguably she was closer to Cliff than we were. They almost exclusively hung out with each other. Cliff and Rita were practically inseparable. They were always glued to each other up until he died."

When I momentarily glanced over to the kitchen I saw both Cliff and Rita laughing their asses off while she sat Indian style on the counter and while he leaned lazily next to her. I knew it was innocent enough, but I was jealous. She'd never show me that much affection nor emotion towards me (and I met her first!). It was like I was chopped liver. They also held so much in common. They were both rather quiet, loved to sport small guns, and had the same music tastes. As far as I could tell they were rather compatible with each other, at least compared to my relationship with her. 

Whenever they were around each other the atmosphere always seemed so light and airy. She would almost always smile and giggle around him like he was the best thing around. And to be honest he was. Aside from Dave no one seemed cooler than him. James was still very introverted, and I was rather short so no everyone sorta treated me like some small child. However, unlike Dave he wasn't an asshole. He was this chill, easy going, patriotic dude that just loved regular shit that everyone else did. He was basically everyone's definition of cool. Everyone liked him, including her.

"All that ran through my head was that I'm just not the one you know?" I quipped towards the end of todays session. When I looked back at my attitude towards their relationship I was always laid out with guilt. "I just wanted to be the one, you know?" I admitted slightly ashamed of myself. I always wondered did it ever really matter. I yearned for-- no needed her affirmation. I just wanted her to tell me did it matter if I was still there or not. At times I still wanted someone to tell me does it matter if I'm still here or I'm gone.

 


	7. Goddamn Your Righteous Hand

**Goddamn your righteous hand  
I eat innocent meat   
The housewife I will beat   
The prolife I will kill   
What you won't do I will   
I bash myself to sleep   
What you sow I will reap   
I scar myself you see   
I wish I wasn't me   
I am the little stick   
You stir me into shit   
I hate therefore I am   
Goddamn your righteous hand   
Goddamn Goddamn   
Goddamn Goddamn   
Pseudo morals work real well on the talk shows for the week   
But your selective judgments and good guy badges don't mean to fuck to me   
I am the VHS   
Record me with your fist   
Want me to save the world   
I'm just a little girl   
Get your gunn, get your gunn   
Get your gunn, get your gunn - Marilyn Manson**

I woke up late one night only to find Rita toying around with that old revolver of hers. She sat outside of the house with only a dim newly lit cigarette and the full moon lighting the night. Her hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail that almost completely covered the sides of her faces, a long Misfits t-shirt that could fit her like a dress. She looked over towards me and wordlessly took out a cigarette and handed it towards me. I took it from her but automatically she went back to being completely and utterly enthralled with the small gun that she held in her hands. 

The night was so quiet aside from a few crickets chirping that broke up the monotony of the atmosphere that surrounded us. I looked towards her then down towards the gun that she treasured so much. 

"It's my father's." She stated aloud. I looked towards Rita silently urging her on to tell me more.

"It was a present he gave me on my twelfth birthday." She continued while twirling the barrel.

"Why do you keep it with you?" I pondered.

"It was the only thing he ever gave me." She cut me off.

Rita went on to point it up at the sky although she was trying to set her sights on something. She pulled the trigger, but yet to my surprise nothing came out. There was absolutely no sound that resonated off of it even after the trigger has been pulled. I guess she could see the confusion in my eyes then she went and pulled out some bullets that had been lying on the ground adjacent to her.

She plopped them in my hand then turned to me. "You don't need to have any bullets in a gun to scare someone." Rita told me sounding rather distant. "You just have to act convincingly enough to show that you have some bullets."

To tell you the truth it did scare me. She was always so fond of that thing; almost as much as that book of her's. She was also a decent shot, but ever since that time I was in her old apartment it became clear to me that she was somewhat suicidal. Along, with that those dead grey eyes of hers held almost no emotion nor sympathy. It reminded me of looking at a feral animal. What would compute for regular people didn't seem to compute for her. It shook me whenever she'd go frigid yet be so talkative like this. It made my blood turn cold.

She sighed and spat out her cigarette onto the ground while stomping it out with her bare foot despite an ashtray being right next to her.

Rita stood up and patted me on my shoulder telling me to follow her back into the house. She invited me back into bed to sleep with her, but despite being so close to the girl of my dreams I couldn't feel any cooler. The dead look in her eyes that always seemed to linger around shook me at that very moment. She slept so peacefully yet her almost passionate rant on her gun ran chills down my spine. It was like first handedly witnessing a person on the brink, yet I never wanted to question her on it. Despite moments like this when we got closer she always terrified me. A part of me has an inkling that she knew this, but if she did she never openly showed me or ever tried stop it to make me feel better.

"To me she was incapable of advancing beyond her violent tendencies." I stated aloud.

"Why do you say that?"

"Any conversation I had with her always bordered on something morbid, even when it didn't there was always this underlining message of something violent."

It was true. While, it was somewhat contained in her public appearances her music always told another story. And I understand that the grotesque themes in black metal are always done on purpose and it is a staple of that genre, yet when around her it didn't just seem like an act or something merely put on for show. 

When I told her about it I was when she was playing with what I thought was a real gun.

When I confronted her on her dark sense of humor she smirked at me and wrapped my arms around her waist. Her hands started to caress me. It felt out of character for her, but who was I to complain? That was until I felt the end of her gun against the temple of my head. She leaned her head against my own as I swear I could feel her pull the trigger on her revolver. I was almost waiting for it to come until I heard the click but felt no head splitting pain.

She leaned down towards my ear and brushed some loose strands of hair out of the sides of my face. "You desire to live, but you are never quite aware how easy it is to die." She whispered softly. "Can you imagine what would've happened if there weren't blanks in here?" She questioned rhetorically as she slide off away from my body.

As she went back to the counter she began to prop herself on the wall adjacent to myself. 

"Lars," Her voice cut through the air like a knife as the deep rasp in her voice reminded me of a menacing hiss or growl that bubbled in the back of a venomous and deadly animal. "You want to know my deal? Any sort of happiness I feel in my life is almost always temporary and is sure to rot away to only prelude to the tiresome descents into levels of hell that I can't wake up from. So I'm sorry if you don't like my attitude, but I don't want to die as I have lived."

She left me alone in that moment completely dumbfounded at her almost poetic yet sickening monologue that left me paralyzed within my own body. At this time I could tell no matter how much she would keep to herself and no matter how much she would refuse to outwardly express her thoughts fractions you could see in her eyes at that very moment that she was silently screaming, "I wish I wasn't me." You were always speaking in tongues. I hate therefore I am. Goddamn your righteous hand.

A/N: Thank you again for all the love so far. I know this chapter was edgy as all hell. I'll try to refrain from going off like this unless it is completely necessary for Rita's character.


	8. Dead From the Neck Up

** Squeeze the tubes and empty bottles  
** **Take a bow take a bow take a bow  
It's what you feel now  
What you ought to  
What you ought to  
An elephant thats in the room is  
Tumbling tumbling tumbling  
In duplicate and duplicate  
Plastic bags and  
Duplicate and triplicate  
Dead from the neck up  
Guess I'm stuffed, stuffed, stuffed  
We thought you had it in you  
But no, no, no  
Exactly where do you get off  
Is enough is enough is enough  
I love you but enough is enough, enough  
A last stop  
There's no real reason - Radiohead**

 

I looked over some tour dates I had scheduled at the time while running my hand through my hair. We were practically booked for the next three months. I sighed putting down the schedule a looking around the barren house that once harbored my family. Three failed marriages most of which have ended in divorce. Only Rita has left without leaving a sour taste in my mouth, and yet  whenever I thought back to that day in 2000 I always grimaced when I relived those moments of fear only to find out that she wasn't there anymore. 

I went searching through my room only to find a lone box that had 'Ellsberg' sloppily written overtop of the box. _'Damn.'_ I thought to myself. _'I didn't open this up in decades.'_ I buried her along with any memorabilia of her. I hadn't seen this box for almost 20 years. Dust has accumulated on the top of the box due to it be hidden for so long. As I opened the box I realized how it still held her scent. Despite being dead for all these years she decided to spite me with her lingering scent that would not seem to fade away like her body and mind has. 

She lived just as she has died; alone. This whole interview was becoming a pain in the ass. Between seeing Lilly again and having the producers just trying to make a quick buck off of a woman's dead dream and body is sickening. It was truly ironic she hated the mainstream yet in a way she became the mainstream. She was falsely elevated like any other suicidal burnt out rockstar  with a  distorted dream and a gun.

With Rita I had experienced the beauty of simplicity and minimalism. And with her I finally understood and knew the answered to the decades old question, 'What happens to a dream deferred?' For a while now I thought it would dry up and fall off like a scab, yet when you looked at Rita it crusted over rotted then exploded into the abyss. She had these  wild dreams of being one with the stars and having something she could finally be identified with and could definably say was hers, yet once she found it it was gone. She found it and 'achieved' it yet there was always something missing. She thought she had it in her but no. She understood it then went off the rails trying to catch it, but she fell attempting to capture it. 

Don't get me wrong there was always a sense of emptiness blatantly evident within her nearly translucent eyes, but once she finally got the recognition that she deserved and yearned for she metaphorically and artistically came to a brick wall. What else was there left for her to do? She achieved her dream, but now what was she without that dream. From that point on she was dead from the neck up, and I think that all this time I had a small inkling of acknowledgement when it came to her mental health she knew that she was stuck. It was time for her to take a bow. She knew that enough was enough.

While glancing through the box I could see a plethora of old pictures with her and I laughing and smiling, along with some old torn journal entries and some old drawings and sketching of hers. However, what really caught my eye after all these years was the bright pink book that gave off this safe almost feminine vibe to it. Yet, once again upon further inspection it was anything, but the blackened figure that stood front and center on the book seemed more distorted and out of place than usual. The figure somehow stood out more and emanated the feeling of despair and isolation than it first did back in 1981. It reminded me of the shared sorrow that she must've felt when reading about this character. 

However, out of instinct immediately after I picked up the book I flinched and threw it across the room. It reminded me of her more than anything else in the box. Even old worn out pictures of her didn't make my skin crawl as much as that book did. It felt as though the  blackened figure's nonexistent eyes were boring into my very soul and being despite being nothing but an inanimate object. That book consumed me with fear. It had Rita's scent all over it and only served as a sick reminder of Rita's despair and lack of humanity. Yet, after all this time I never dared to read the book. I remember at the will reading everyone got a book from her, but out of everyone that should've and could've received the book I out of all people did. It held a note designated for me and me alone, but everyone's book held a note that they would never discuss outloud towards anyone. However, going off of the fact that the books were specialized and individualized I only assumed that the notes were as well. But after reading the note for the first time I didn't want to read it again. To me it only served as a reminder that she was gone. I guess it was meant to give us some sort of closure, but I refused to believe that she was truly gone. Even to this day when I see a bunch of teenagers wearing a shirt with her face on it I can only imagine her standing next to me calling them a bunch of 'posers' and 'teenage douchebags' while I could only help but laugh at her attitude.

I looked down and saw the mess that my bedroom was now enwrapped in due to my time reminiscing on her. I sighed yet again and looked back down to a picture of her when she was caught rarely smiling. Looking back at that picture perfect smile to her glassy washed out eyes made realize that she was there to only watch me fall down like dominos. Yet, I my tingling when looking at her almost friendly and happy aura that consumed the entirety of her face. But whenever someone who didn't know or understand her they would mumble to themselves, _'What a dreadful looking woman!'_ But her glass white eyes and creeping smile sent shivers down any man's spine and left him with the profound feeling of revulsion. And the more you stare into her glass white smile the more you felt an indescribable yet overwhelming feeling of unspeakable horror when gazing in to emotionless yet fear inducing features. She was so freakish to look at yet still managed to come off as unclean and even nauseating by her soul piercing expressions alone. _'Exactly where do you get off?'_ I thought aloud to myself.

Yet despite all of this she was still my Rita. I loved her, but enough was enough. This had to be the last stop in my sorrow. Now, looking at her made my eyes water; both in dread and from the loss of a loved one. She made me feel dead from the neck up. There's no real reason. I guess I'm stuck.


	9. Imitation of Life

** Our story had an unhappy end  
But this could change, I still call him friend  ** ** "Take my advice, and listen to me  
A great opportunity, can't you see  
I only want what's best for you  
The deal of a lifetime, what more can I do"  
How many times have you heard this today?  
Some stupid sucker says "it's great, we love ya babe"  
For them this bullshit, it's their whole life  
Cut through their bullshit with a knife  
Imitation of life  ** ** Oh, oh, oh  
Anger burns  
Bands dress like women with hairspray and lace  
I'd pass an image law, stick it in your face!  
Let's see how long they keep dressing this way  
Wearing this image twenty four hours a day!  ** ** Did you ever think for yourself??  
Just once, did you ever think??  
That's all I want to know  ** **Imitation of life, living out a lie  
You'll never be right, imitation of life  
Why are you here??, you're taking up my space  
The new imperfect race, imitation of life - Anthrax**

 

When Rita finally got signed to the label her attitude couldn't have been anymore somber and quiet. All of her bandmates; even Lilly, were rather excitable and overflowing with joy when it came to the fact that they were just one step closer to achieving their dream. Rita on the other hand sat Indian style on the ground in her ripped jeans and parka with a plastic cup of alcohol present in her hands. Even when she drank I could hardly see a smile present on her small bird lips. Her somber and quiet attitude for the most part went unnoticed, but when she was asked about her feelings on being signed she would always state that, 'It was one of the best things to happen in my life.' 

Of course the party couldn't last for too long due to the fact that the rest of Metallica and I had to fly out to New York tomorrow to try and find a record label along with a meet up with another growing thrash metal band on the east coast, Anthrax. Yet, when I went up to her room she wasn't partied out or too tired. Instead she sat there in her small beaten down  working desk with an ancient lamp dimly lighting the room. As I peaked open the door she motioned for me to come in and urged me to bed while she only stayed up for what I assumed to be hours jotting down lyrics and chord progressions.

When I woke up a few hours later I was greeted by Rita herself standing over the bed with a lit cigarette and a cup of coffee in hand. She didn't seem physically tired, but the dark round bags under her eyes told a different story. It was clear that she was tormented by sleep depravation among other things. As I moved to sit up on my bed she handed me the cup and quickly retreated back to the same old desk, but this time with her guitar in hand.

As she softly strummed and plucked away I noticed how detached she was. Her eyes were wide open yet her almost mechanical movements gave the impression of a person who was working while sleeping or better yet was nothing but a mere mechanical robot. She was so dazed that she didn't even notice me approach her form until I laid a hand on her shoulder. Even then it took a few good seconds along with some shaking on my behalf for her to snap out of it. What really snapped her out of her daze was when she saw my shadow lean over her form and desk as I observed the song in the making, Metal in a World Made of Plastic. Yet, still when I did she only wordlessly nodded towards me and motioned me out of her room. 

When I entered the living room I saw Tomi and Joanna conversing with each other while Lilly was slowly exiting the room with a cigarette loosely hanging between her lips. Once they saw my figure emerge they immediately stopped talking. 

"Oh, hey your band said to be at the airport by nine. They left some change on the counter for you incase your dirt poor like the rest of us." Joanna sounded off still sounding a bit drunk.

I nodded and thanked her before I exited the small housing complex and waving goodbye to the both of them. As I went outside I saw Lilly propped against the house with the same cigarette still dangling from her lips with her hair tied back in a sloppy bun in a long black t-shirt and her quintessential black tinted heart shaped glasses shading her from the bright sun. "Hey can I bum one from you?" I questioned. She slowly turned towards me still leaning on her hip with a look of disgust that always managed to show up whenever I was around. "What? You couldn't get one off of Rita?" She hissed out. I sighed and rolled my eyes knowing that she had to be difficult; at least when it can to me with everyone else she was a breeze. "No, so can I just get one? I don't feel like taking the cab to the 7/11 then taking it to get to the airport." I complained. She groaned in further disgust and retreated back to the inside and slammed the door in my face. I scratched the back of my head in mild amusement, but mostly annoyance as I hailed a cab to take me to the airport. Yet, still when I was thousands of miles apart my mind still wandered back to her and her alone, Rita. While, I have to admit I was having the time of my life in New York with the guys from Anthrax the somber and tranquil vibes that I got from hanging around Rita couldn't be topped. Almost nothing could take it's place.

Yet, still with missing her I constantly worried about her. While, I did like her composed mannerisms it was almost always hard to tell what she was thinking. It became so deadly silent at times when around her that I would get to the point where she was stuck in a trance while writing or playing. I guess you could say that it was just plainly escapism and that was it, but she always looked so out of it when she was like this. She reminded me of the dead. Like she was just simply trying to exist among the living and that was it. The emptiness that constantly plagued her eyes only served to remind me of a lifeless china doll.

It was like she was trying to put up with the bullshit of life by wearing a mask 24/7. It was almost as if it was a challenge for herself to see how long she keep dressing and acting that way; wearing that _'image'_ twenty four hours a day! She was trying to fit in with a world full of plastic people. I chuckled to myself looking back at the demo song I saw stranded on her desk. "It was like being metal in a world made of plastic." I concluded to the producer. She was  just an imitation of what life's all about. An imitation of life.


	10. Just an Anchor on My Heart

** Close your eyes and bow your head  
I need a little sympathy  
'Cause fear is strong and love's for everyone  
Who isn't me  
Kill your health and kill yourself  
And kill everything you love  
And if you live you can fall to pieces  
And suffer with my ghost  ** ** I shot my love today would you cry for me?  
I lost my head again would you lie for me?  
I left her in the sand just a burden in my hand  
I lost my head again would you cry for me  ** ** Just a burden in my hand  
Just an anchor on my heart  
Just a tumor in my head  
And I'm in the dark  ** ** So follow me into the desert  
As desperate as you are  
Where the moon is glued to a picture of heaven  
And all the little pigs have God  ** **Oh no there she goes  
Out in the sunshine the sun is mine  
The sun is mine - Soundgarden**

 

Once I returned from New York I was surprised to see that The Virgin Suicides were gaining a larger cult following. They were going to be doing some joint concerts with another thrash metal band in the surrounding area, Slayer, in an attempt to lower the costs of setting up gigs and what not. Apparently her along with the guys from Slayer got along rather swell. It was at the point where they would frequently hang out with each other outside of the concerts. At times Rita would be sitting around messing with his bass telling him what to do, and mentoring him on how to make his music more 'brutal' sounding. To be honest it was funny seeing such a freakin large tall guy that practically towers over her taking music lessons and advice from a girl that couldn't have been taller than 5'6.

I never really went to any of their concerts or witnessed them interact when they were performing. But I knew that Slayer, Tom especially, definitely learned from her how to really 'rile up a crowd' I guess. "This sorta became a staple of her shows." I stated. I held my right arm forward and rolled up my sleeve. "She would take a razor or a small knife and cut downwards into her skin." I stated making a repeated the motion towards the camera. Then Tom for a while would do something similar to that while on stage until a fan threw something at him.

"But Rita was never compromising when it came to her shows. What you saw was what you got. She wouldn't change it if her life depended on it." 

When she was up on stage I thought she was a completely different person. She wasn't like anything I saw  from her before. She was dare I say it, outgoing. She was uncompromising before, but she was ferocious on stage. Yet, off stage she was so small and quiet. It was almost as if she was repressing herself, and I never understood why. She was a nice girl. Almost everyone liked hanging out with her despite how indifferent she could be, but no one really minded it or cared even.  It was just like looking at a polar opposite. One side was practically invisible, yet when on stage she was monstrous. The center of the stage was where she lived, and never rested. "She looked and acted immortal." I concluded staring into the camera.

 "CUT!" The producer yelled, and told me it was a good day's work and to leave and get some rest. However as I gazed back towards the set where I had recently sat of all people that showed up Fenriz was there. I never really knew that much about the whole black metal scene outside maybe Venom and Merciful Fate and the like. But Rita knew everything about it. I guess you should when you are apart of the genre, but nonetheless she was deeply submerged within the whole scene back in the eighties and nineties. This is not to say that she ever burned a church down, but she has engaged with some people in some activities that are objectionable to say the least. 

Fenriz was a guy a few years younger than myself who made a band in Oslo and would constantly keep in contact with Rita and Lilly. Whenever, they would tour over there she would have them or some other band headline for them. He seemed like a decent guy in the few times I have spoken to him, but in all of the conversations that we had he would never bring her up, at least not in a direct way. It seemed that it pained him to bring her up, but can I really blame him? Everyone that knew her didn't want to speak her name out loud. It was like it would disrespect her or something.

He was lazily and nonchalantly greeting the producers and trying to act as sociable as possible when he noticed me sitting around in the background.  "Oh hey it's you." He greeted sounding somewhat lighthearted about the whole ordeal.

"Yeah, yeah. So how have you been man?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I've just been doing the same thing I've always been doing I guess." He shrugged.

"Oh well that's great. How would you like for us to hang out after this set is done? What do you say?" I transitioned awkwardly.

He looked at me oddly before shrugging once more. "I'll be in the states for the next month and a half so sure why not."

I thanked him then waited out of sight for him to finish his portion of the interview.

He was asked about what Rita was like. A generic question sure, but what followed was almost heartbreaking.

"Rita..." He trailed off. "Rita was a sister to me. Everyone knew her name back in Olso. A lot of us have personally knew her because of either her touring over there or just hanging out in Euronymous' record store. She was really friendly but wasn't very talkative. She was so reserved and soft spoken that despite most of us being younger than her we often overshadowed her in a room." He chuckled.

"I've heard that Rita like contemporary art." The producer prompted him to say more.

"Yeah. When I was younger I was very conservative and would look at something like This Is Not a Pipe and say, 'What the hell was that?' But one day while she was recording an album up there she showed me some of her artwork. They were all so mystifying yet dreary looking. They all looked like they came out of some century within medieval times Yet, they were all so vindictive. Even in some of her more lighthearted works they all seemed to have some bleak undertone expressing an overwhelming amount of violence or woefulness. It was all so mortifying in a way that it left a pit at the bottom of anyone's stomach. She'd always claim it was to honor an author she liked, but she'd never disclose a name."

My eyes widen at the last part as I caught on that it was the very same author that wrote the book that she'd adore so much, No Longer Human.

The truth was always lying down there somewhere. I just have to seek it out. She killed herself in an attempt to not live with herself. When she shot herself she simultaneously shot my love that day. I lost my head and myself again today, won't somebody cry for me? There she goes again. Just as I get closer to her she walks straight away. I was desperate now.  She was just a burden in my hand, just a tumor in my head, and I'm in the dark. But then I remembered love was for everyone who wasn't me.

I stood up from the chair about to leave the studio to wait in my car when I heard Fenriz softly in an almost cracked and broken down voice state, "She was just an anchor on my heart."


	11. Is This a Sickness or a Cure

** And with the early dawn **   
** Moving right along **   
** I couldn't buy an eyeful of sleep **   
** And in the aching night under satellites **   
** I was not received **   
** Built with stolen parts **   
** A telephone in my heart **   
** Someone get me a priest **   
** To put my mind to bed **   
** This ringing in my head **   
** Is this a cure or is this a disease **   
** Nail in my head **   
** From my creator **   
** You gave me life **   
** Now show me how to live **   
** Nail in my head **   
** From my creator **   
** You gave me life **   
** Now show me how to live - Audioslave **

Once we left the studio we went to this small cafe where he decided to light up. Yet, his eyes held this harsh seriousness despite his actions and mannerisms still reminding me of an angst driven teenager. He was still in relatively good shape despite him getting up in age and everything that happened during the nineties around Norway.

Immediately he pulled back his hair and stared at me directly into my eyes. He leaned forward then let out of sigh of fatigue. "So what did you want to talk about?" He questioned skeptically. "You never bothered talking to me after she died or at the hearing. You didn't really even want to contact me when she was alive. I didn't even learn about her death from you. I learned about it from the news rather than someone that I would've considered close to me."

I sighed as his unfaltering gaze continued to bore into my own. It was as if he simply was bored with this conversation despite it being about the person that he always held at the forefront of his mind. "Listen, I know I've been unfair to you." I started hesitantly. "But Rita has been plaguing my mind for a while. I know it must be the same for you." Once I finished my statement he looked down away from awkwardly as it seems I struck a chord with him. "Rita was and still is very dear to me too, but all I have on her is the book she left at the reading. I have no journals and I have no idea of her activities while she was alive once she left my sight. Can you please just allow me some sort of information so I can get closer to my closure for her."

When I finished he sighed partially in disbelief and partially in apathy. He looked up towards me once more as he smushed his lit cigarette in the ashtray next to us. "Listen," He started. "I love Rita, but she was just as secretive with you as she was with me. I know almost nothing about that book of hers. I can only bring up what I know about her sketching and letters. She told me briefly about what her doctors have told her, but I'm not a shrink I don't know why. Aside from her having some internal physical and mental damage I don't know that much about it. I would recommend going to her doctor, but know them they probably canned her medical history." He finished.

My eyes perked up as he mentioned her medical history. I knew that she was briefly prescribed doses of morphine, but aside from that she never brought anything up about it. "Wait. Medical history. What do you mean She was only on morphine right?" I pondered.

"No." He looked over at me although I was blind. "You didn't know? She was on Zoloft and an antipsychotic. Rita said that it had something to do with her uterus being torn or something." I shrank back as he continued. She never told me any of this. Never in the years that we have spent together has she ever even bothered to mention this to me. I guess that would explain why she was always so hesitant to have sex, but this was so surreal for me. For a long time I would tease her about being a prude, but having part of yourself being destroyed it comes as no surprise.

'Why has she never told me.' I unknowingly mumbled aloud to myself.

"Again, I'm not a shrink I don't know." He said while pulling another cigarette out of his back pocket. "But if you want to learn more about Rita I would suggest going to Norway. Her old house is still there. No one has been in there for a while, but I'm sure you can still get in if you have a key."

As he stood up I turned towards him almost begging and pleading to him for more answers. "Well, then do you have a key?" He turned back towards me and almost scoffed although what I asked was the funniest thing on the earth. "No, almost no one has a key to her house. You are barking up the wrong tree, Ulrich. Ask someone else."

"Well then who else would have a key!" I demanded.

He falsely pondered for a second humoring my rage. "Try Lilly. Her and Rita knew each other since they were kids." He left me standing there feeling dumb and confused as he hailed a cab to go to his hotel.  
I shrugged and sighed as I realized Lilly was most likely the only way I could get more information on Rita. Lilly has for a long time hated me with a burning, seeping passion that still hasn't faded even after twenty years. Even when I try to reconcile with her it only proves to be fruitless and a waste of time. Even Rita couldn't bring us together. But it had to work this time something had to give.   
I sighed and pulled out my phone and began working o scroll through my contacts until my finger landed on Lilly's contact information.  
Rita has always been the one to standby and gave me life. She taught me how to live, even, but now I couldn't even buy an eyeful of sleep. I couldn't even put my mind to bed. I couldn't sleep soundly while hearing this ringing in my head. And it was all because of her, Rita. Yet now I had to call up Lilly of all people.  
I pulled the phone up to my head as I heard the familiar ringing. As I heard the phone pick up from the other side I greeted her as pleasantly as possible.  
"Hey, Lilly."  
She was my last resort, yet throughout all of this I had to wonder, _'Is this a sickness or a cure?'_


	12. Like a Stone

**On a cobweb afternoon,  
In a room full of emptiness  
By a freeway I confess  
I was lost in the pages of a book full of death;  
Reading how we'll die alone.  
And if we're good we'll lay to rest,  
Anywhere we wanna go.  
In your house I long to be;  
Room by room patiently,  
I'll wait for you there like a stone.  
I'll wait for you there alone.  
And on my deathbed I will pray to the gods and the angels,  
Like a pagan to anyone who will take me to heaven;  
To a place I recall, I was there so long ago.  
The sky was bruised, the wine was bled, and there you led me on. - Audioslave**

I sighed as I was reminded of Lilly and I's conversion no less than 24 hours ago. She seemed tired  and beyond annoyed yet for some reason she still invited me over to her house. She never really saw me in a favorable light, even when Rita was alive to say she didn't care for me was taking it lightly. However, once Rita passed away her contempt for me grew even more. It was so bad that at the funeral she completely disregarded me and acted as though I didn't exist (or even better would refer to me as 'him' during her speech.) Point being is that she despised me, so her inviting me over to her house to discuss Rita of all things was something that was completely unheard of, but what could've possibly happened to allow Lilly to just allow me into her house.

I shook my head trying to shake away the thoughts that arose when thinking of her and just kept my eyes on the road until I saw her house come up in the distance. It wasn't big or anything if anything it looked like a regular upper middle class house in the suburbs, but then again she never really preferred bigger or fancier things. It was always something so simplistic in the fear of selling out or whatever.  Once I came across her house I saw her standing outside propped against her window still with a newly lit cigarette in hand and her hair and appearance, once again, as disheveled as humanly possible. Once I parked infant of her driveway she immediately hid back in her house leaving the door open for me. 

She sat at the table adjacent to the wall with a cup of coffee in her hands and the book given to her presumably by Rita at the hearing.  "So, you are finally trying to find Rita's house? Well I'll be damned." She stated nonchalantly while bending back the pages in the book. 

Before I could open m mouth to speak she immediately tossed me the book that was in her hand. "Do you know what this is?" She questioned softly. I shook my head as I bent down to pick the novel from off the ground only to notice that the engravings on the cover of the book were similar to the ones she gave me. However, instead of a lonesome figure in the center there stood a sun setting behind the vast waves of the ocean. Yet still like last time the title of the book along with the authors name was directly below the picture. "This was the book that was given to me at her hearing." She affirmed rather grimly. "To tell you the truth," she continued, "I wanted the book you have been _'blessed'_ with by her. She cherished that book more than any other. Yet, I wasn't worthy of it. You were." She finished with a certain amount of spite found in her voice.

"Go on!" she urged me. "Read what's inside." She instructed while lighting up another cigarette.

_'Dear Lilly,_

_You have always been a person who I have treasured the most. You've been with me since we were dumb kids back in Norway. I will always treasure our years together, but I have now reached a brick wall. I think I've been at it for a long time, but I've just acknowledged it now. I have nothing left to lose. Once you reach the end it's very lonely. And I know there is nothing more to this. I feel like I've just been slaving my life away to this unforeseeable force only for it to strip away what's left of me. It's not worth it. Imagine going through life wishing you were dead yet not having the guts to do it earlier causing everyone around you to get close to you. I'm sorry I have lead you on for so long. Bye._

_Sincerely,_

_Rita'_

The handwriting was so unkept. This was clearly the writing of a person at their wits end. The writing on the page looked like it was almost done frantically. It was nothing, but psycho babble to me. Yet even with this all mentioned she still bothered to keep as concise and to the point as she could.

"Even though I have known her for all the thirty-eight years of her life, yet felt it was best to just leave me." She proclaimed with her voice crackling. "I loved that woman like she was my own flesh and blood sister, yet she gave that book to _you_ of all people. When I have known her since we were mere children. She gave it to _you_!" She nearly hissed out between tears.

"Whatever," She stated leaning back in her chair. "You came here for something. So what do you want, Ulrich?" She said with venom still held within her voice. 

"The key." 

She automatically busted out laughing as she held her head back towards the ceiling. "You just have to take everything from me don't you?" She pondered puffing out the nicotine smoke from between her lips. 

She then put her hand down her shirt only to pull out a set of keys dangling from a thin piece of rope. She got up from her seat and approached me with a certain amount of anger and force behind every one of her steps. She glared down my sights  and plopped the key down into my hand.  Once she turned away from me she hissed out in a barely audible but clearly threatening tone. "Leave, and don't return." She ordered. "If it isn't about Rita I don't want to hear from you again." 

"I've made my amends to her when she died, but you have yet to do so and it has been 18 years since she has died."

She pushed me towards the door and slammed it on me prompting me to go back towards my car with my gaze set downwards towards the key that laid present in my hands.

I'll be there Rita. I'll be waiting there, alone. I'll be waiting there waiting patiently, room by room. Your house is where I long to be. I'll wait for you there like a stone.


	13. Trust

** Lost in a dream **   
** Nothing is what it seems **   
** Searching my head **   
** For the words that you said **   
** Tears filled my eyes **   
** As we said our last goodbyes **   
** This sad scene replays **   
** Of you walking away **   
** My body aches from mistakes **   
** Betrayed by lust **   
** We lied to each other so much **   
** That in nothing we trust **   
** Time and again **   
** She repeats let's be friends **   
** I smile and say yes **   
** Another truth bends, **   
** I must confess **   
** I try to let go, but I know **   
** We'll never end 'til we're dust **   
** We lied to each other again **   
** But I wish I could trust - Megadeth **

I was called back into the set today since now they figured they could report on Rita and I's love life. It comes as no surprise that it was filled with turmoil, but vilifying me seems to be what makes these big studios any money nowadays. It's no secret that I wasn't faithful to Rita while we were together, but at the end of the day Rita knew and didn't care. At least she acted liked she didn't care. If she had any qualms about any of the women that surrounded me she never spoke up about it. She would see me with a woman (most of the times a groupie) and would just love ok away or talk to me as if she didn't exist. My infidelity didn't really seem to phase her, at least that's what I thought.  
Once I sat down on the set the producer came up to me prompting me to 'just act natural' and to 'just freely speak your mind'. I sighed looking into the camera waiting for further instruction. "How would you describe your relationship in the nineties?" The producer asked off screen. "To me it was like some twisted dream or story." I stated.  
Thrash metal was finally reaching it's peak around this time. While, all of the Big Four bands including The Virgin Suicides were doing great, commercially and financially, it was clear that all of these 'alternative rock' bands were stealing our fire. Plus, things were kinda falling apart behind the scenes since all of us were still pretty shock after Cliff's death. We were all pretty rattled by it, but what could you do?   
The crowds just got bigger and bigger though. Along with that all the drugs, alcohol, and women just came so easily. Plus, with all of the shit our producers and management were putting us all through seeing each other would barely happen. Only once we toured together, but even then that was a fiasco waiting to happen. But what can I say? I was stupid? I know that. I regret cheating on her to this day and even dead she still haunts me. Yet, I remember those bleak silvery grey eyes when she saw me with one of those women. She would never outwardly express how she felt, but her eyes sure as hell showed nothing but disappointment and anger beneath the calm and docile surface. I remember when we were in the process of making the Black Album I asked her to marry me and despite saying yes her true answer couldn't be anything other than lukewarm.  
She was sitting there in the recording studio with a cigarette dangling loosely from her lips and a black Flying V laying steadily in her arms as she simply gazed forward towards what seemed like nothingness. It wasn't until I tapped on the glass of the door that she jumped to turns towards me. She set down the guitar and unlocked the door inviting me in. Once I embraced her she jumped yet again before awkwardly trying to return the gesture.  
She greeted me as she went back to siting by the recording equipment adjacent to me.   
Sure without a doubt I was feeling awkward as all hell. I had a ring in my pocket hoping that she'd marry me, yet despite us dating for quite awhile neither of us have really expressed any want for being tied down or married. If anything she had a sort of disdain for matrimony. She'd always tell me that 'love flies out the window once matrimony comes knocking at the door.' I'd laugh along with her when she'd say it but deep down a part of me knew that she was dead serious about how she viewed something like this so I was secretly preparing to be turned down in an instant.  
"Why did you come here?" She questioned sleepily.   
"I have something important to ask you."   
She began to rub the sleep out of her eyes as she began to sit up straight awaiting the news.  
"Well are you going to keep me it in suspense or what?" She joked.  
I told how I had longed to marry her and how I wanted to make her my own and have a happy family and future together. Yet when I professed this her frown deeper along with the bags under her eyes.  
"Are you sure?" She'd question urging me to tell the truth. "Are you absolutely positive that you want to be tied down in a marriage. I won't fault you if you turn back." She piped up almost begging me to get out of this. But still I urged on claiming how I wanted to marry her. And in the end all she could sigh and say yes as I slid the ring into her finger. As she smiled back at me I couldn't help but notice how sad and how forced it all looked, yet I didn't dare to question it. I knew that if I asked for an answer as to why she was upset I wouldn't like it. So I did nothing. I do believe that she loved me and I loved her, yet the hesitance in her eyes and in her facial features never went unnoticed by me despite the apparent ignorance I had towards her situation. After all, I loved her yet I never got to properly know her. Isn't it ironic? Knowing and marrying the girl of your dreams yet having not one inkling or iota to the mental prison that she locked herself in day in and day out. I look back on myself reminiscing one what I considered to be the good old days only to come back and find out that I was just an idiot dumbfounded to what really was going on. What the hell did she ever see in me? I sure as hell wonder.  
Wandering back to these days I left searching my head for the word that you said. Time and time again she was repeating this to me urging to not let this friendly coexistence between us end. And yet another truth bends. We lied to each other and to ourselves so much. Our bodies ached from mistakes. But I must ask us back then, why does trust equal suffering? Yet, then again there was absolutely nothing we thought we could trust.


	14. I Will Be There Once More

** Hold on to the thread **   
** The currents will shift **   
** Glide me towards you **   
** know something's left **   
** And we're all allowed **   
** To dream of the next **   
** Oh,  **   
** oh the next, time we touch **   
** Uh huh, uh huh **   
** Uh huh, uh huh **   
** You don't have to stray **   
** The oceans away **   
** Waves roll in my thoughts **   
** Hold tight the ring **   
** The sea will rise **   
** Please stand by the shore **   
** Oh, oh, oh, I will be **   
** I will be there once more - Pearl Jam **

Sooner or later I knew I was going to have to Norway. Yet I was trying to put that off as much as possible. I knew the answer was right in front of me yet looking into what was figuratively her own personal mental labyrinth turned me off the wrong way. It didn't seem right to me to be poking into the crevices of her mind. If what Fenriz and what Lilly say are true than everything about her is locked in that house. Everything about her has been left there decaying since she has died. Yet, since they have both stated that they never went there since she has died it should still be in the same condition that Rita left it.  
I sighed once more looking downwards towards the book Rita left me at her hearing. No Longer Human is one of the many things that have plagued my nights ever since she has died. I have neglected to read it and along with that I have neglected to read the note she has left behind in the wake of her death. I've only merely skimmed through the suicide note once and have vowed to never even glance at it again. And knowing how those paparazzi idiots act to knew information about any deceased rock star the note would've been sold for someone else's profit and gain. It just wasn't worth it opening up the book. It felt like I was degrading her to even still hold onto this thing, but nonetheless I decided that it was finally the time to open up this book for once and for all. It was finally time to start to put this thing to rest.  
'Dear Lars,  
Forgive me for the sudden goodbye. I know I've been a terrible liar to you and to everyone that has surrounded me. You were always so caring and always wanted me to tell you about the things that haunted me at night. But it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth you turning me away, because I knew that if you knew everything about me you would've figured me to be deranged, delusional, or mentally ill. I could not risk that. Despite what you may think I did love you. I sorry you had to find out about my ailments this way. I won't ask you to forgive me that would be asking for too much, but I will plead with you to forget me. I'm not worth the time nor energy. You will always be my favorite Danish boy. Remember, Ob la di, ob-la-da, life goes on, bra  
La-la, how the life goes on.  
Love  
Rita'  
The sloppy writing ended there, but the unorganized writings seemed to only get even more and more visibly incoherent as it continued. It must've hurt her as much to write this as it is for me to read this. But despite this I still had to chuckle in-spite of herself. She still adored the Beatles. Even when facing death she still managed to laugh at it with one of the songs she loved the most.  
I closed the book and almost broke down in tears. Yet still I had to laugh. 'You still kept your sense of humor even when writing a note of this caliber.' I had to say to myself.  
I sighed collecting myself before looking through my contacts once more. I already went to Lilly and Fenriz. I most likely won't be able to get in contact with any of those other guys from Norway and Sweden until I go over there, but who could I call now? I sighed once more once a few certain contacts came into me vision. The guys from Slayer would have no trouble talking to me about Rita despite their touring dates. The same goes with the guys from Anthrax. They'd gladly tell me anything they knew about Rita. However, the problem would arise when I would have to confront the guys from Megadeth, namely Mustaine, about Rita when she was alive. Ellefson was the calmer of the two and I knew I would have no issue talking to him, but confiding in Mustaine would surely prove to be a pain in the ass knowing his distaste towards me, and mine towards him. He hates me more than Lilly does, and that's saying something.  
I would have to call him later, but right now I had to see if I could get any coordinates of Rita's housing arrangements from somebody. That would prove to be a challenge knowing Lilly doesn't want to even contact me and Fenriz would most likely not pick up if I were to call and ask him for some help.   
But who else would know that location? Those guys in Norway and Sweden won't come out unless I go to them personally. Toni and Joanna don't even know that place exists, and neither do any of those guys from Anthrax or Slayer. And the only band  that toured with The Virgin Suicides constantly and also went to Scandinavia with them was Megadeth. 'Damnit!' I yelled out to myself in frustration. 'Well I guess I would have to call him one way or another.' I figured. 'It's best to just get it over with and call him up.'  
I stared down at my phone once more for a couple of seconds before dialing him up. As the phone rang I couldn't help, but grumble to myself in annoyance knowing that he was the only person I could confront about Rita.  
As the time seems to pass by like hours waves roll in my thoughts. All of this is for her and her alone. She's that dear and precious to me. I just have to hold onto this thread and hope that the currents will shift and glide me towards you. All I'm asking if you is to please stand by the shore, and I will be there once more.


	15. 'Cause I Don't Get Sleep

** City's breaking down on a camel's back **

** They just have to go 'cause they don't know whack **

** So while you fill the streets, it's appealing to see **

** You won't get undercounted 'cause you're damned and free **

** You got a new horizon, it's ephemeral style **

** A melancholy town where we never smile **

** And all I wanna hear is the message beep **

** My dreams, they got her kissing, 'cause I don't get sleep, no **

** Windmill, windmill for the land **

** Turn forever hand in hand **

** Take it all in on your stride **

** It is ticking, falling down **

** Love forever, love has freely **

** Turned forever you and me **

** Windmill, windmill for the land **

** Is everybody in? - Gorillaz **

 

I sighed in anxiousness and anticipation as I glanced down towards my watch on my wrist. 'It's nearly 5:30 he should be here by now.' I thought. Did he decide to ditch me? I wondered. Knowing him he'd gladly do it in a heart beat. Knowing him and acknowledging our relationship it wouldn't surprise me one bit. Yet, I was still hoping that the mention of Rita would draw him out of his house towards me regardless of his thoughts and feelings towards me. 

It was no secret that we both hated each other and that our relationship has been strained since the early eighties when James and I kicked him out of Metallica. But despite all of that Mustaine's relationship with Rita has been nothing but pleasant on both ends. I mean he was almost as tearful as Lilly at the funeral and that's saying something.

"Hey Dave." I greeted trying to sound as nice as possible.

He came up to me and sat down in the shade under the umbrella of the cafe. Since he was still in the area (due to the filming of this documentary) it was just much more efficient to meet each other now. 

"What do you want Ulrich? You finally want to give me the credit to those songs before you release them?" He questioned with a bit of bitterness evident within his voice.

"No," I replied. "I called you here because of Rita." I revealed.

His eyes darkened a bit as he sighed and looked towards me with a hint of disappointment and even sadness evident within his eyes. "So you are finally willing to learn more about the girl you claim to love almost twenty years after she died?" He replied skeptically.

"Yeah, with those whole documentary series going on it's really bringing me down memory lane. I figured I guess it's time to get some closure." I figured.

He sighed and looked towards me once more. "Yeah, I guess I can sympathize.  We were just talking a few days before she died. We were thinking about doing a joint tour again. It's a shame too. I was looking forward to it." He answered.

"Listen," I started. "I'm about to go to Norway to try and find her old house. Do you have any idea where it would be?"

"Well yeah of course I know where it is,  but why should I tell you?" He pondered. "I bet you didn't even know the thing existed until a few days ago." 

I looked away in slight embarrassment realizing that he hit a nerve.

"C'mon man." He murmured. "You knew her before I did and you guys were married yet you're now just decided to maybe go to that old house of hers? For all you know it could be destroyed and demolished by now." He grumbled.

"Dave I know you and I don't have the best track record but could you please-"

"No" He cut me off. "You were always an asshole to me yet now when it comes to some dead girl you barely gave a shit about two decades suddenly you want to talk. You guys kicked me out while on tour. And you know who helped me get back. Not you, James, or even Cliff. Rita did. She helped me get back home and supported me in getting Megadeth up and running. Yet you could only do jack shit. Now's she dead and guess what no one really knows why and no one can bring her back." 

Once finished with his tirade he abruptly stood up and set some money down to pay for the bill. 

"Listen Lars I can almost believe that you miss her, but so does everyone else. What makes you so special? Everyone else had their chance to mourn 18 years ago when she died. Some of us are still mourning over her death, right?" He paused for a second allowing me to think back to Lilly and Fenriz when I met up with them. They still seemed so heartbroken it was almost as if it pained them to even bring up her name. I mean Lilly was practically reclusive and a homebody now and Fenriz while he was still going the look in his eyes when speaking about Rita was pure sorrow. 

"Yet, you are just starting to tear up now, after all these years, really? You seemed to get over Rita rather easily. You had how many wives after her? You rebounded rather quickly don't you think?" He finished. "It might be a little bit too fucking late to want to find out about her now." You had several marriages to do so. Why now?"

"I love her."

He scoffed as I went on to continue. "I went through the note she gave me I went through some of the possessions she had while alive. She loved me, and I was a damn fool. It's time for me to make up for being less of a man than I should have been. I just need to know where her house is. I'll leave you alone." I began to plead with him. "Just tell me where that house is."

He sighed and took out a crumbled piece of paper and began to jot down the address.  

As he finished he leaned back against the wall and was about to hail a cab. "You're lucky I like her enough to help you Ulrich." He grumbled with distaste. "Best of luck to you. I hope you get the closure you deserve." He stated walking off into the taxi before him.

As he closed the car door in my face our eyes met for only a few mere seconds, but in those moments a quiet understanding and resolution between us was made. It became bluntly clear to me that whether I liked it or not I would have to go to Norway. Probably much sooner rather than I had expected. He may never say it outlaid, but he needed the closure too. Maybe, not as much as I did, but with the same amount of desperation that drove me to begin this whole search.

When I gazed down at the small piece of paper with your address on it I knew that time was ticking away and the world as knew it was falling down around me. You won't get undercounted this time 'cause you're damned and free now. You got a new horizon, it's ephemeral style. We are turned forever hand in hand. Yet when alive you took it all in on your stride. And all I wanna hear is the message beep. I want to finally get to the bottom of this to the bottom of you. It's 'cause I don't get sleep.


	16. I Still Love You, But, I Still Burn

**I tried to love you I thought I could  
I tried to own you I thought I would  
I want to peel the skin from your face  
Before the real you lays to waste  
You told me I'm the only one **

** Sweet little angel you should have run  
Lying, crying, dying to leave  
Innocence creates my hell  **

**Cheating myself still you know more  
It would be so easy with a whore  
Try to understand me little girl  
My twisted passion to be your world **

**Lost inside my sick head  
I live for you but I'm not alive  
Take my hand before I kill  
**

** I still love you, but, I still burn - Alice in Chains **

 

I gazed down at the address in my hands along with  the old rusted key that was to Rita's old house. Since production for the documentary was momentarily put on hold I decided that it would be the best time to go over to Norway. It was in the woods near Oslo and was apparently quite isolated. The way Dave described it to me over the phone sounded like it was almost something akin to some shed. And knowing Rita it might be. She always loathed materialism. It was probably so minimalistic that it could constitute for something a poor person would seek shelter in, but nonetheless I had to go.

As I sat in the plane I was glaring down at the book in front of me with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. I never once dared to read this book let alone pick it up for more than a few moments at a time. This plane trip would be several hours. I might as well go ahead and read it before I go to her house. The book stated off so somberly it was the translator's notes. While, it could be seen as the usual gibberish seen in any book opener that dragged on for hours and hours at a time. This one as expected led into the actual author's biography and stated that this was partially the truth and partially just made up. However, upon deeper inspection it was just the author merely switching out names to make it seem more impersonal than it actually was.

The character you followed was weedily and socially inept. It came from this well off family yet it could never seem to fall in line like the rest. He had the intuition of a crazy person, almost that of a sociopath or some kind of serial killer, yet he never killed anyone at least directly. This character was a failure and a laughing stock. He was an alcoholic, a morphine addict, and always failed when he tried to commit suicide. And even when it was suggested that he found love it was always temporary and would lead him further down a hole. He had this girl he was dating and ending up wanting to jump. This made her join him, but she ended drowning while he still lived. He married this young 18 year old girl who ended up cheating on him. It led him to be more into drug and alcohol use while the wife was constantly fearing his mental state due to his suicidal tendencies. Yet, in the end it is neither told nor shone if he ended up taking his own life in the end. It just ends on his mother stating, 'No one knows where he went but I miss him.' She would also go on to blame that woman he was with, but that was it. Despite how the book started and progressed it ended pretty anticlimactically. 

I shuttered and recalled how it was when she died. No one knew where she was for a while. We sent search parties after her and filed a report in to the police, but to no avail. And despite the life she lived it seemed to many that she died pretty anticlimactically. But she always stated that a person like her would never die in their beds. Yet, one of the last times I was around her I questioned her about the book yet again. Only for her to sigh and state, 'This book is my favorite book', and 'I want to be just like the author', or 'I want to be just like Yōzō.' They were pretty blank slated statements. They were also pretty vague, yet she knew that almost no one knew anything about the book or would even bother to pick it up. 

I remember touring with her after her music finally made it big. Her fans over here were nothing, but ecstatic to see her but everyone else (media, parents, regular citizens, and the like) would go out of their way to punish her for her 'satanic' music.

When we had some down time in Norway Rita decided to show me around and go to some record stores and local parks and what not. Norway is a really isolated place. Almost everyone knew everyone there. She would also go onto explain to me that a lot of people there knew her from when she was a child. I expected to see them come up to her and maybe shoot the breeze to reconcile and reconnect after all those years away. But to my surprise she was treated like a black sheep among the flock of white ones. Wherever we went the same glares and stares of disgust followed her everywhere she went. Murmurs of disgust followed her, and while I didn't know what they were saying at the very least I could discern that it wasn't positive. Random people would snicker and point at her or belch out words of disgust. Even though I would question her about it she would never answer me at least directly. Yet, she seemed so unfazed by it, but behind those dull eyes I swear I could've seen a glimmer of sadness and a hint of shame and embarrassment evident in her eyes. The only time she seemed to be properly accepted and treated like a real person was in Helvete, and even then she still seemed to be a bit out of place and out of touch with her surroundings despite being welcomed there and being greeted at the door.

Interaction with her was always so brief and so curt. Yet, whether done intentionally or by mere coincidence her mannerisms nearly completely mirrored that of this book.  While, I didn't know much about her family life her actions around me showed that she didn't come from such a great background. I was always trying to help her. I was pleading with her to let me help her, but she turned me away. Even till the end she was a stubborn headstrong person that denied and refused assistance of any kind. She truly stood alone. 

I tried to love and to own you. I truly thought I could. The real you laid to waste. I wanted to own you, and I wanted you to be mine for good. I live for you but I'm not alive.  You told me I was the only one. Yet you and I were cheating each other. I still love you, but, I still burn.

A/N: I know I'm kinda late on this, but rest in peace Vinnie Paul of Hellyeah and Pantera. We lost another Cowboy this year,  but wherever you are now you are with your brother. 

**Author's Note:**

> Reuploaded from Wattpad


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